Original Advice

DONT: Don't scroll receipts at 2 a.m.

Close the Case at Midnight

At 2 a.m., your brain hunts for villains and confessions. You swipe like a detective high on adrenaline, building a case no one asked for. Every screenshot is salt. Every scroll is a fresh cut. Put the evidence back in its box. Sleep is the courtroom you win in. Close the app. Close the tabs. Close your jaw. The truth won't evaporate by morning.

Night magnifies shadows. Your pattern-recognition turns into witchcraft. The algorithm is not your oracle; it is a slot machine wired to your wounds. Blue light spikes you, sleep shrinks, paranoia expands. Tomorrow’s power leaks through a cracked screen. You don't need proof at 2 a.m.; you need sovereignty. Guard the gate. Save your sting for daylight, when aim beats impulse.

Cosmic Context

You are fixed water—able to see to the bottom and hold your breath longer than anyone. Pluto and Mars give you precision; use it to cut ties, not reopen graves.

Action

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Power down your phone at 11:30 p.m. every night.

You are allowed to sleep without solving the mystery.